

ClaustrophobicMy hands are unable to remain silent for long. Through tortured blinks, their control slackens, and they start to screech against the surrounding walls. My brain follows their example – crying aloud for help, shouting at my body to stop running away.Claustrophobic
My legs are twisting and turning, my eyes melting until all I can see is blackness; all I can feel are the sickening revulsions and unshakeable impulses that my body is enduring. The air gets tighter with every second that passes, compacting as the walls close in upon me like some sick gang with no motive but to quench their throats with my fear. Always, m
Real
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Tu parles francais?
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[ Je pense en image ]
|| I know that we've got better days ||
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'Journalism is just a Gun. It's only got one bullet in it, but if you aim it right it's all you need. Aim it right and you can blow a kneecap off the World.'
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